Worm's Finest: With Great Power
by Cyclone
Summary: Reposted from Spacebattles. After helping take down Lung (see Darkness Rising arc 3), Victoria Dallon now walks her own path.
1. Dawn 1-1

**Worm's Finest: With Great Power**  
 _Dawn 1.1_

It was raining, appropriately enough.

I'd joked a few times about the advantages of being an unmasked hero. I meant it, though. It was liberating. I didn't have to change into my costume if I wanted to go flying. I didn't have to watch myself to keep from using my powers out of costume. I didn't have to juggle two different lives the way other heroes had to.

It wasn't all sunshine and roses, though. There was... pressure. To do good, to be a hero, every moment of every day, and without a secret identity, we had nowhere to run to escape it. I think it hit Ames worse, though. She was Panacea, the great healer. There were other parahuman healers, sure, but few as versatile as her and fewer still who did it for free.

I couldn't _imagine_ dealing that kind of stress, but Amy's a trooper. Honestly, _she's_ the real hero in the family; the rest of us, all we can do is beat up bad guys.

But I'd made a promise to myself. I had power; with it came responsibility, and I wasn't going to run from it.

Today, however... today, we were going to pay our respects to the _real_ price we paid for going unmasked. The price our family had paid.

I looked over at Dad as we entered the cemetary. He... he was never good this time of year. Not hard to see why. Aunt Jenny's death had hit him hard, and I don't think he ever recovered. I looked at Mom; her lips pressed thin, her expression severe, she grieved in her own way, and I think, in a way, part of her feels guilty.

The whole New Wave thing had been her and Aunt Sarah's idea, after all. I know Uncle Ray had blamed them.

You've probably heard the story. The Brockton Bay Brigade had unmasked, rebranded themselves as New Wave, and started a movement for parahuman accountability. It had looked like they were about to usher in a new age. Until one of them - one of _us_ , for all that I was still just a kid then - was ambushed and murdered in her civvies. Her cape name was Fleur, but to me and Amy, she was Aunt Jenny.

After that, the movement had ground to a halt. Any heroes who were considering following suit and unmasking obviously decided against it, and founding New Wave member Lightstar - Uncle Ray - retired and disappeared from the public eye.

As we approached her grave, I noticed someone standing there, trenchcoat and hat warding off the rain. I frowned. Who would-

Mom's voice interrupted my thoughts. "Raymond," she said.

My breath caught in my throat as the figure turned. "Uncle Ray?" I breathed. I hadn't seen him in six years, not since the funeral.

He gave us a measured look and nodded to each of us in turn, flashing me a faint smile. "Carol, Vicky." He looked over at Dad. "Mark, how-?"

"Don't, Ray," Dad said, holding a hand up, the heat in his voice showing more energy than he usually did this time of year. "Just... don't."

Uncle Ray nodded slowly, then turned to my sister. "I hear you've been busy, Amy."

Amy nodded wordlessly.

"We weren't aware you were in town," Mom said, breaking the awkward silence.

"I had some business to take care of," he said. "Given what day it is, I figured... I figured I'd pay my respects."

Mom nodded. "If- if you need some privacy, Ray, we can come back later."

"No," he said quickly, shaking his head. "I was... just about to leave anyway." He looked at me and my sister. "Vicky, Amy, take care of yourselves, you hear?"

We nodded wordlessly, and he gave the headstone one last, lingering look.

 _Jennifer Terrill  
1980-2003  
Sister. Wife. Hero._

As he walked away, I wanted to call out to him, to convince him to stay, to be part of the _family_ again...

But I didn't have the words.

* * *

Regardless of the situation with Uncle Ray, the city needed me, needed _us_. The PRT had credited Lung's capture to the Protectorate and New Wave "with the assistance of a local independent hero," because heaven forbid they give Batman any credit when he never stuck around to press the flesh.

But everyone knew the truth. The video on PHO had ensured that.

Mostly, I felt bad for Huntress, but I could sort of understand why they didn't publicly give her any credit. After all, if the PRT let the public know one of their Wards had taken on someone as dangerous as Lung, even just to deliver the final blow from ambush... well, there'd be a lot fewer Wards as their parents pulled them from the program.

After that, the PRT had raided Medhall, forcing Kaiser underground while the Rising Sons and White Jade fought over the now-defunct ABB's territory. Things had _just_ started to calm down when _something_ had gotten the Sons on the warpath again, attacking just about every gang that held territory.

Today, though, the Empire was striking back (ha!), and as usual, they weren't being too careful about collateral damage.

Arms folded imposingly, I descended, stopping to float a few inches from the ground in front of Stormtiger, Cricket, and about a dozen E88 gangbangers.

I'd say I had their full attention, albeit more on my (now fully recovered, thank you very much) chest than I was comfortable with. I'd considered patching the hole Lung had burned in my costume but had decided to just clean up and hem the edges instead. It served as a... a reminder, of sorts. Of how vulnerable I really was, of the sacrifices that sometimes had to be made. Mom hadn't liked that idea, but it was _my_ costume, damn it.

"Back off, Power Girl," Stormtiger said. "Our quarrel's not with you."

The thing with protection rackets is that, while people rarely get much choice in who they pay, attacking people allegedly under a rival gang's protection is generally seen as a great way to draw them out.

The thing with racist assholes like the Empire is that, sometimes, they have a little trouble realizing certain things, like the fact that the Rising Sons wouldn't give two shits what happened to a restaurant - like, say, the one behind me - whose owner had paid the _ABB_ for protection before the ABB went defunct. To them, a chink was a chink. Or a gook or a Jap or whatever racial slur was in vogue among racist assholes these days.

"You're Nazis," I reminded them. "Do you _really_ think I'm gonna listen to _you?_ "

Stormtiger responded with a cutting air blade. I could have dodged - easily, even - but the blade would have trashed the very restaurant I was trying to protect. Instead, I let the blast of air break harmlessly on my force field. I smirked. I'd been getting better at gauging just how many "layers" my force field had accumulated at any given moment, and with the charge I had today, it was going to take more than one good hit to drop it.

I charged forward and swung, only to hit air. Literally, as Stormtiger had fired a blast of air into me, buffeting me back and propelling himself away from me. Cricket leaped in, and I turned and shifted, letting her kama's blade skitter down my upper arm rather than blocking and risking getting my arm hooked; I may be stronger, but enough leverage and skill can make a big difference.

I danced back a couple of steps as Cricket slashed at me again - once, twice, three times - then reversed my momentum and charged forward, my fist denting the cage mask she wore and sending her flying down the street.

Gunshots rang out, and bullets tore through my cape, shattering several layers of my force field, and I instinctively threw myself out of the line of fire, around a nearby corner.

Taking a moment to catch my breath, I flew out and around again, smashing into and through the gangbangers like ten-pins. I turned and took a moment to survey the battlefield. Cricket was just picking herself up. Where was Stormtiger?

A flurry of air blasts smashed into me from above, battering down the last few layers of my shield and sending me sprawling. I gasped in pain as I skidded across the pavement. Well, that answered _that_ question.

I rolled over, dazed, and tried to get up as Stormtiger drew his arms back. My force field's basic layer was already back up, of course, but it would only stop _one_ decent hit...

A flurry of familiar yellow energy lanced out from the sky, smashing into the ground around Stormtiger, forcing the neo-Nazi dancing backwards. I couldn't help but smile as the source of those energy bolts landed between us. It was Uncle Ray, glowing with his signature golden aura; it wasn't a Breaker state, not really, despite appearances. I could still barely see his Lightstar costume through his aura: a wide-collared, black and gold double-breasted coat, a pair of white pants, and black shoes and gloves. My smile faltered. He was also wearing the golden helmet he had worn during the Brigade days, before New Wave's unmasking.

Uncle Ray - _Lightstar_ \- raised his hands and fired another volley of energy bolts, and Stormtiger scampered away, pausing only to help Cricket get back to her feet. After watching them leave, Uncle Ray turned and helped me to my feet.

"Power Girl?" he asked. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, Unc- Lightstar," I said, correcting myself. "Just a little road rash. I've had worse."

He frowned. "Well," he said, "I'm glad you're all right."

"Does- does this mean you're coming back?" I asked hopefully.

He shook his head. "No, I... I just have something I need to look into."

"What is it?" I asked. "Can we help? Can _I_ help?" _Please._


	2. Dawn 1-2

**Worm's Finest: With Great Power**  
 _Dawn 1.2_

When we flew to the rooftop for privacy, I didn't know what to expect. Uncle Ray had to be in town for a reason, and it had to be a big one, given... everything. He dropped his aura and began pacing.

"Victoria," he said finally, stopping and turning to look at me, "I'm looking into Jenny's death."

"What?" I asked, staring at him. "But..." I shook my head. "Wait, are you saying Kaiser lied? Why would he do that? What would have been the _point?_ "

Back in the early days after New Wave's unmasking, the Empire had held out hope for recruiting us. After all, most of nicely fit their Aryan ideal. When Aunt Jenny was killed by a new recruit to the Empire, a man named Chilton, Kaiser had executed him and presented his corpse to us as an apology.

At least, that's what we had thought. Now, Uncle Ray - Lightstar - seemed to think otherwise.

"No," Lightstar said, shaking his head. "Chilton pulled the trigger, all right. But I'm not so sure he was entirely himself when he did."

It took a moment for his meaning to sink in. "You think he was being Mastered?"

He shrugged. "Maybe," he said. "I don't know. There are just... too many things that don't add up. Chilton was former Marche - you _know_ the kind of operation Marquis ran - and the Empire's kid glove policy toward New Wave at the time was pretty well known."

That gave me pause. He had a point. Marquis's strict rules on violence against women and children were legendary. They were almost certainly exaggerated - I doubted he would hold back against a woman in a fight - but assassinating a woman from surprise... that didn't fit.

"Okay," I said, "I can see where you're coming from, but if he was being Mastered, then why did the Master stop with Aunt Jenny? Why would _she_ be the target and not the rest of New Wave?"

"Because," he said, sitting on the retaining wall, "Jenny was looking into something when she died. She never told me what, but I found her notes a few years ago. I tried following up on it then, but I had no leads. Until now."

"What changed?"

"Some of the deaths in the recent gang fighting," he answered. "It... reminded me of what she was investigating. Tell me, Victoria, did your parents ever tell you about Manchester Black?"

* * *

Manchester Black. A murderer who called himself a hero just because his victims were criminals. His powers were a combination of telekinesis and mind control. His telekinesis in particular was frightening, as it worked on both living and non-living targets and didn't require line of sight, though he had to guess when using it on something he couldn't see. Force fields and strong energy fields like Uncle Ray's aura blocked it, though.

Black had never bothered with a cape name - he just used his powers to wipe people's memories - and he'd gotten sloppy, careless. The Brigade had taken him down, and he'd been sentenced to the Birdcage, only to be killed in an ill-advised escape attempt en route. Supposedly.

"And you think he's alive?"

"Some of the deaths fit his MO," Lightstar said grimly. "Both right before your Aunt Jenny was killed and recently. Brains scrambled inside their skulls, no entry wounds." He sat on the retaining wall. "That's why I didn't want involve you or your parents," he added. "Even if they listened to me, you _know_ your father would want in on this."

And Dad didn't have a power that would block Black's. As I understood it, the fact Black had been unwilling to kill "fellow" heroes had been a major contributing factor to his downfall back then. If he'd Mastered someone into killing Aunt Jenny, then we couldn't count on that now.

"Doesn't mean _I_ can't help," I said stubbornly. "My force field should protect me, right?"

"That's not a risk I want to take."

"Bullshit!" I snarled. "I won't let you cut me out again!"

"Vicky..."

"No!" I snapped. "I- you... you know Mom and Dad aren't exactly... the best," I said, skirting around the issue, "and Aunt Sarah was always so _busy_ being the face of New Wave, but me and Amy... we had each other, we had Aunt Jenny, and we had you. Until we didn't. I'm not letting that go again."

I glared at him, and he stared back at me impassively. Finally, a long moment, he sagged.

"All right," he relented. "Probably our best bet is to get access to the police reports."

I considered that, then smiled. "I think I know a couple of people who might be able to help with that."

* * *

I didn't know most of the Wards very well. Sure, we patrolled alongside each other periodically, but we didn't exactly hang out. Huntress and I, though, got along pretty well.

"So," she said, slouching against the roof access, "what's this about, Peej?"

"A cold case," I said. "You, uh, you remember what happened to Fleur?"

She shrugged. "I was just a kid back then, but yeah, vaguely." No surprise. It had been national news for a while.

"Yeah, well," I said, tilting my head toward Uncle Ray, "Lightstar's found some evidence suggesting that there was more to it than we thought."

Huntress turned her head to look at Uncle Ray, who picked up from there. "Have you ever heard of Manchester Black?"

Huntress tilted her head thoughtfully. "Some big shot vigilante guy from back in the day, wasn't he? Taken down by the Brigade, killed trying to escape transport to the Birdcage, right?"

He nodded. "That's the one. His death might have been a little... exaggerated, and I think Fleur was on the verge of proving it."

"So he Mastered the poor schmuck to shut her up," Huntress finished for him. She seemed troubled. " _Daaamn_. Well, I'm in. What do you need me for?"

"There have been a few deaths recently that match his MO," Lightstar said. "If we can get the police reports..." he trailed off meaningfully.

Huntress shrugged. "I can try. I'd have to file an official request to the BBPD to give the PRT access and then another request to give _me_ access. No guarantees, though."

Lightstar and I exchanged a look, then looked back at her. "I think," he said, "we'd rather keep this off the books. If Black is still around, he's probably got a line in on the BBPD, and I don't want to spook him."

"Hmm," she mused.

"Could you contact Oracle?" I asked.

She shrugged again. "Worth a shot."


	3. Dawn 1-3

**Worm's Finest: With Great Power**  
 _Dawn 1.3_

Thankfully for our investigation, things were starting to settle down in parts of the city, easing pressure on the hero community. The Rising Sons had abruptly stopped their aggressive attacks on their neighbors. Whatever had riled them up so much might have run its course... but I wasn't that optimistic. Even if that were true, it didn't mean everything was blowing over. There was still a lot of tension, especially in the border areas that had changed hands during the fighting.

That the gangs were such an ever-present fact of life in Brockton Bay that which one held what territory was so easily recognized... it pissed me off. I wanted to change that. Batman, Huntress, and I... we had taken down _Lung_ , and in doing so, we'd effectively _shattered_ the Azn Bad Boys. We had made a _difference_.

Or so I'd thought.

Except now we had two new players on the field. The Undersiders - formerly a smash and grab team - had taken to claiming some former Empire 88 territory for themselves, and some new faction had cropped up: professional mercenaries equipped with tinkertech gear - a mishmash of Toybox products and more unique stuff - that had begun laying siege to the Empire's downtown assets. Both groups clearly smelled opportunity.

The PRT's investigation into Medhall had hurt the Empire, both financially and in their drug supply, though the exact details were still kept secret. Max Anders, president and CEO of the Medhall, had disappeared with his family, and some suggested they'd fled the country, while others said the Empire had silenced them. I didn't know what to believe or even how the investigation started, but I had a few theories. The leading one involved the new Protectorate hero in DC, Solstice. They were trying to hide it, but I was pretty sure she was a rebranded Purity.

Aunt Sarah _really_ wasn't happy when she figured that out.

I was starting to worry about Uncle Ray. He'd been poring over the files Oracle had gotten us for days now; if he'd found any clues, he wasn't sharing them. I missed Aunt Jenny too, and if he was right... well, I wanted a shot at the fucker myself, but I was starting to wonder if he'd gotten too attached to his theory. I'd gotten him to promise to meet up with me before he did anything; short of moving in with him - and there was no way I was going to sell _that_ to Mom and Dad without spilling the beans - it would have to do.

At the moment, I was patrolling with Huntress. It wasn't official, exactly, since she was technically on probation, but she played ball enough that the PRT was willing to cut her a fair amount of slack. Besides, we got along well enough, and we worked well together. With me carrying her, we could move pretty quickly, and I could focus on flying while she could focus on watching for trouble.

"Peej!" Huntress called. "Velocity's calling for reinforcements, and we're closest. Corner of Fox and Infantino. It's the New Guys."

I nodded, altered course, and accelerated. "New Guys" was the handy - if unoriginal - term those of us in the hero community were using for the mercenary faction, at least until we got an actual name for them.

I slowed as we approached the firefight. Three mercs were "pinned" between Velocity on one end, taking cover behind an overturned van, and a pair of BBPD officers crouched behind their squad car. If you could really call it that; the New Guys didn't really seem intent on going anywhere just yet, but at least they didn't seem intent on killing anyone - well, anyone _else_ \- only shooting at the edges of their cover to force them to keep their heads down. They were holding position at the entrance of a brownstone; the fallen skinheads - most unconscious, all injured, and probably at least a few dead - scattered near said entrance meant it was probably an E88 safehouse of some sort.

Well, had been, at least.

"Drop me off near Vee," Huntress said.

"All right." I nodded. "I'll check in with the Bay's finest."

Matching deeds to words, I dropped Huntress off by Velocity, then flew up and circled around to join the two BBPD officers. One was a Hispanic woman, the other, a carrot-topped guy who had to be fresh out of the academy. Both had strapped on tactical vests and were holding pump shotguns.

"Power Girl, am I glad to see you!" the redhead said, obviously relieved.

"You two seem a little over your heads here," was the first thing I could think of to break the ice.

The woman snorted. "Someone called in a Ten-Sixty-Six; we had no idea capes were involved. Trust me, we called in the PRT as soon as we realized they had Tinker support."

"Right," I said, nodding, then stuck my head out to look past the squad car. "Well, stay here, I-" I blinked as I saw a red blur move up to one of the mercs, briefly coalescing into the image of Velocity, punching said merc in the face, before zipping away, then blurring back in at the next merc. "Huh." The process repeated several times for each merc until they were lying unconscious. "Looks like Velocity has those guys handled."

I squared my shoulders and flew over the squad car, approaching the building warily. After all, I had no idea how many more were inside, nor how many Empire gangbangers might still be fighting them; given they had been trying to buy time rather than make a break for it, there probably were at least some skinheads still putting up a fight.

My caution was rewarded when a merc crashed through a window and flew across the street, clearly not under his own power. A huge, musclebound guy stepped out. Judging from the torn shreds of the shirt he had been wearing and the lack of a mask, he was either a Changer or a fresh trigger.

Great. Just great.


End file.
